Just for Today
by Pandasushiroll
Summary: Killian is having trouble expressing his feelings about Emma. He tries practicing by talking to an actual swan, only to have Emma walk by in the middle of his confession. Fluffy hilarity ensues. (In which Killian has a conversation with a Swan as if it were Emma)


Just for Today

She was perched on the bench that overlooked the docks. Killian had spotted her from the deck of his ship earlier that morning. A very fine morning if he did say so himself.

Or was it simply because she was _in_ his morning that it was fine?

Not likely.

"Swan," He seated himself a safe distance away from her.

(Just in case she was in one of those "I'm a strong woman" moods like the one she had back during their sword duel in the Enchanted Forrest. Granted, that situation had been _slightly _different. But it was better to be safe than sorry.)

He also knew, for a fact, that she happened to like her space.

(He would never admit that the fact was one of the many, inconsequential, "little" things he knew about her. Even if his other hand was at stake.)

He scarcely noticed the odd feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach, as his eyes searched for something other than her to rest on. Nervousness? Anxiety? Flustered? The pirate in him gave up on trying to label the feeling with words he didn't fully understand with an annoyed huff. He was a pirate not a poet.

It was a tad awkward.

Killian sitting there.

Swan _also_ sitting there.

She was on the other side of the bench, trying not look at him or speak to him or acknowledge him whatsoever. She seemed to be having trouble with accepting his presence.

When he reflected on it, his being a pirate/thief/warrior made things pretty awkward in the first place, since she was-for a lack of a better word- a _Swan _and should never be one to associate with pirates (Or thieves. Warriors maybe)_._ She also happened to double as the Sheriff _and_ a princess. Well _the _princess. Being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Whatever, she was awfully-

Charming.

He could have cringed at the amount of cheese that oozed out of that internal joke. He _should _have cringed.

A poignant thought came to mind just then.

When had he started thinking of her this way?

She looked ruffled when he sat down, likely surprised to see him so out there in the open.

(It wasn't the wisest in a long line of unwise choices he's made recently.)

With her_, _of all the others he could have chosen. She wasn't the only _Swan _out there right? She wanted to point out that there had to be someone else he could bother but, she relented, Killian wasn't _really _a bother was he?

When did it become so difficult to tell?

Killian didn't know where to begin;

_Nice weather we're having? _(Clouds and chilling gusts. Very nice indeed.)

_Enjoying the view? _(The view of a bunch of sweaty, bearded men, hauling crates of smelly fish on and off ships all day? Oh yes, the view was _spectacular. _That was a view to die for.)

_Fancy meeting you here. (Where was he getting all this crap from? His inner Smee?)_

He dwelled on it, leaning away and clearing his throat to end the long stretch of silence.

He waited one, two, three beats.

Then cleared his throat again when no conversation was attempted. Then waited some more. He still got nothing.

All the while, Killian glanced back and forth between her, the dock, his ship, and the sky. Then his ship again for reassurance. He found none.

Yep. This was definitely awkward.

Damnation. When did women become such a hassle to deal with?

The answer was; _women _hadn't become difficult. Emma Swan however, had become so exceedingly difficult to handle, that he caught himself reviewing everything she said as if she were giving him cryptic clues to find some glorious treasure. Pathetic didn't even begin to describe his behavior. By all rights he _should _be ashamed. He _should _get the hell out of this town before she changed him completely. How was he meant to take out his revenge when rather than concerning himself with the man he was after, his mind chose to linger over the image of that stubborn Swan woman?

"I know we've had our differences," Killian pretended to be scarcely aware of her scoffing at him.

But the truth was he noticed. He noticed a great deal in fact.

Maybe he would get lucky and _she _wouldn't notice.

"And I know I haven't been quite the gentlemen previously advertised," He was a salesman now, Neptune help him, why was he a salesman?

He paused for practiced finesse.

"But you haven't been the adventure you implied either."

She squawked.

Alright.

Maybe that wasn't the best way to phrase that, but he tried to play it off with a chuckle anyway.

(Because that was the suave thing to do. And if Killian Jones was anything, it was suave.)

"No need to be offended, love. I was only teasing."

She wasn't buying that crap. Not even if it was on clearance and she had a coupon for a bigger discount.

"To be fair- I do happen to be a _pirate_. I'm meant to be a scoundrel. I pillage, I steal, on occasion I kill. I am not, by any means, nice. Or whatever it is you good guys waste your time doing." With a vague hand gesture wave combination, he could already tell this was not going nearly as well as he had hoped. But the smile that touched his lips, as he desperately _tried _to make his explanation work, came naturally. Almost as naturally as the trademark eyebrow quirk. And there wasn't a woman alive that could resist the smirk that accompanied the eyebrow quirk.

(Except of course, Emma Swan).

Monetary silence.

Swan, always cautious, eyed him skeptically, but didn't try to speak again.

He was thankful.

Killian waited for the gossiping flock of women to sidle by before continuing.

(The last thing he needed was a pack of women _gossiping _about him and Swan in the worst possible way.)

"What I mean to say is-"

What did he mean to say? The last time he had put this much thought into the emotional well-being of a woman had been with Milah, and that had been a long, long, _long_ time ago.

He had to face it. He, Killian Jones, just wasn't built for all this tricky romancing, gooey,_ caring,_ crap.

xXx

"No Mrs. Bumbrake, I have not seen your pet yorkie."

The nanny was yapping enough for her and the apparent lack of dog running around.

"Yes well I'm sure he'll turn up eventually."

More yapping. No wonder the dog ran away. She could hold the phone several inches away from her face and still hear the nanny clearly.

"Okay. Yes. I will call you as soon as I get any news. Okay, alright. Good afternoon, Mrs. Bumbrake." She promptly moved to hang up before the woman could get anymore protests in.

Sweet salvation.

Emma was quickly beginning to realize how uneventful being the Sherriff of Storybrooke got to be when all the villains decided to behave.

(When a call for a missing yorkie was the most horror you heard about as sheriff all day.)

Regina was going through another phase of wanting to change for the better for Henry.

(Which was fine by Emma, less of a hassle).

Belle was reigning in Gold better than a sheep dog herded sheep. (It was really quite impressive).

Cora was long gone and the only trouble makers left were Killian and-

"Emma! How are you?"

The blonde leered at the woman in front of her and pretended to put an effort into being polite. "Hello, Tamara. I'm alright, and you?"

Small talk with this woman was particularly painful. Mostly because she insisted on being so mockingly kind it partly disgusted the sheriff. And had absolutely **nothing **to do with her past with Neal.

Neal's fiancé beamed back at her regardless, harboring an obvious amount of venom behind that pointy tooth grin.

Okay.

Maybe she didn't _really _have pointy teeth. But she might as well with the severe amount of bite in her tone. Or at least, the _implied _amount of bite.

Honestly, what the hell did Emma ever do to earn such disdain?

Granted, Emma herself had been a bit testy when they were first introduced.

(And she also happened to be Neal's first love. Thank you very much).

But Tamara had egged her on with her insatiable need to frequently rub in the fact that it was _her _and Neal going out, _her _and Neal that would take Henry to dinner, _her _and Neal that were getting married and getting a home and getting Tallahassee.

_Emma's Tallahassee._

The dream **she **had chosen with Neal.

Regardless of whatever happened in the past, the truth was, the future belonged strictly to Tamara.

It occurred to Emma that the _her _in question had been talking, and that **she** ought to reply. Or at least stop the woman before it turned into a marathon of Tamara talking about shit that Emma quite frankly couldn't care less than an inch about.

So Emma being responsible, put up her wall and got out of there before anything important or meaningful could be exposed. She didn't like being exposed, because being exposed was the equivalent of being vulnerable. And she couldn't take the chance that, at that one moment when she actually _was _just like everyone else, someone would come strike her down. Awfully deep for a Tuesday. Uncomfortably deep.

So she did the sensible thing and walked out the door to take a "walk" to clear her head.

xXx

On her walk, despite the many bizarre and magical things that happened in town, Emma still found herself surprised when she came across Captain Hook sitting on a bench talking to a bird.

It would make a great opener for one of Henry's many stories.

He chuckled as if they shared some secret joke, and if Emma wasn't mistaken she would have sworn that bird was enthralled by the man sitting a foot from her. Weird.

Observing Hook now, not in a state of complete stress as a result of dedicating his life to hunting down a monster, gave her the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach.

But Emma still couldn't have stopped the sharp comment even if she wanted to.

"Mind telling me why you're talking to a goose?"

Hook glanced up, an easy grin split his face. "It's a swan actually."

The blonde only rolled her eyes. She definitely wasn't in the mood for his games today. The bird caught one look at Emma, and must have sensed the waves of agitation rolling off of her, because it was quickly retreating to watery haven a few seconds later.

Hook out right laughed. "You really have a way about you, Swan." And there was something about that laugh. Something about how calm and cool he was. The way his body stretched out in an effortless comfort made her feel…just a little bit better. Despite his being a total pain in the ass most of the time, something about Hook made her think that maybe, under different circumstances, the two of them could have gotten along quite nicely.

(They had an understanding.)

Pulling herself out of her brief revere, Emma padded over and gracelessly plopped herself on the bench where the swan had previously been. And she hadn't the faintest idea what she thought she was doing.

"It seems one Swan has replaced another." At the incredulous look Emma gave in response, Killian gave another soft chuckle and lapsed into silence. His smile urged another wave of relief. She could feel the muscles in her back and shoulders melt into relaxation under his watch.

She was acutely aware of his arm resting along the top of the back lining of the bench, his fingers twitched. Was he nervous?

There was a moment of stillness as she glanced at him, tracing the uncertainty in his eyes, watched a muscle in his jaw tighten, like there was some great tension winding itself tighter in him. He was wound up, taunt, clearly anxious about something.

And strangely, she found the urge to soothe him climb its way into her heart.

(She was later reason that anxious was not a good look for the man.)

Without much thought, Emma scooted just a bit closer to him, shifting to look at the sky. "The view out here is nice." Killian exhaled, the mysterious weight lifted.

"I'm quite fond it myself." He still looked physically uncomfortable, but relaxed when she scooted toward him again, their thighs a mere few inches apart.

He wasn't Hook today. Today he was just Killian and she was just Emma. Today she would sit with him, the comfort of his arm barely wrapped around her back, thighs almost touching. Today they would sit together, talking about minuscule things, seeking an unspoken comfort in one another.

And just for today…

"Killian?"

His eyebrow quirked perfectly, and she immediately suppressed the light feeling that filled her stomach. "Emma?"

She grinned just as easily as he normally did.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Just for today, that was enough.

* * *

_So I havent actually finished anything in awhile because my life has been super chaotic! This is a result of a request from one of my friends/a prompt off the Fyesemmaandhook tumblr page!__  
_

_I've never written for OUAT before even though I adore the series so I was incredibly nervous about this piece. Please let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated~_


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